


A Ballad's Beginning

by a_stray_thief (ashtraythief)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, M/M, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26043370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/a_stray_thief
Summary: Geralt leaves Jaskier at their camp and gets injured on a hunt. Jaskier’s not happy about it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	A Ballad's Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, I watched The Witcher and wanted to write emotionally constipated idiots in love. This is my first foray into a new fandom in a long time, please be gentle. I'm still learning how to write these guys. 
> 
> Many many thanks to dancing_adrift for handholding and feedback and to ilikaicalie for excellent beta work. All remaining mistakes are definitely my own. Also I've taken some liberties with Witcher lore, I have no idea about cockatrice's hunting habits.

Well, Geralt thinks, as he pulls his sword out of the cockatrice, _this went unexpectedly well._ He killed the monster without really getting injured; he’s not wet or muddy, so he doesn’t have to find a stream to bathe in today; and his shirt only got a tiny tear, which means he won’t have to waste coin on a new one. As far as monster hunts go, this one was fairly easy.

Jaskier will probably scold him for not taking him along to witness another fight he can base a ballad on. But this would have been the most boring ballad ever.

Geralt wipes his sword clean and makes his way back to camp. Jaskier had still been half-asleep this morning when Geralt left—dawn was the best time to hunt cockatrice—but by now he’ll be awake. This thing between them— _thing,_ Geralt snorts at himself—whatever it is, it’s still fairly new, but Geralt already figured out that Jaskier is always very appreciative when Geralt comes back from killing a monster.

It’s not that Geralt didn’t notice Jaskier’s pretty face from the start, but it took him a while to get used to the bard’s incessant chatter and to actually miss it when he was gone. And Jaskier had always been the biggest skirt-chaser—but one evening Geralt had seen him go off with a stable hand. And the next time Geralt took a bath, he recognized the look in Jaskier’s eyes for what it was—desire hidden under layers of sarcasm and teasing.

Geralt didn’t act on it, because physical attraction and the desire to do something about it were two very different things, and he’d actually come to enjoy their camaraderie. But he kept seeing Jaskier look, and knowing there was a possibility made something hot coil in his stomach. He finally raised an eyebrow in question when he was drying himself off after a bath. Jaskier had stuttered, told Geralt _that was not, not at all, this was not, how dare he_ , and moments later they were tumbling down on Geralt’s bedroll.

These tumbles have since become a regular thing. And Geralt likes it. It’s easy. No search for a whore house, no drain on his purse. And, well. With Jaskier, it’s _good_. Jaskier is a tease and a flirt; he has a mouth on him that would put a Skelligan sailor to shame, and he’s just so fucking responsive. Geralt also rarely sleeps with people long enough to find a routine. It doesn’t get boring, instead there’s a familiarity when they fuck. He’s getting to know Jaskier in ways he’s never known anyone before, and every time it’s thrilling to see what new sides of Jaskier he can discover, what new sounds he can make, what new ideas he has. Granted, most of Jaskier’s ideas are ridiculous—they’re certainly not roleplaying witcher and siren—but Jaskier does have his moments. The hot springs he’d known about had been a very good moment. That thing he does with his tongue is always a good moment. So Geralt is maybe looking forward to going back to camp a little more than usual. Because Jaskier will be there, and Jaskier has a thing for Geralt after he’s killed a monster.

When Geralt reaches the clearing though, instead of heat in Jaskier’s eyes, he finds fury.

What the—

“You!” Jaskier pokes a finger at him and stops pacing. “You, you—”

Words seem to evade Jaskier, which is not actually uncommon when he’s spitting mad. Though he hasn’t been spitting mad at Geralt in a long time.

“What?”

“‘What,’ he says!” Jaskier throws his hands up.

Great. Geralt was looking forward to getting his dick sucked and now he’s in for one of Jaskier’s nonsensical rants.

“How dare you, Geralt? You just _left_ me, and then you don’t come back the _whole_ day and I am just sitting here, bored out of my mind, twiddling my thumbs! Because I have no idea where you've gone off to—”

“You knew I was going to hunt the cockatrice.”

“I told you I’d come with you!” Jaskier’s yelling now. “And you snuck out of bed this morning—”

“I didn’t sneak out, you were too tired to properly wake up.”

“ _Snuck out_!” Jaskier makes some grand wavy gesture that ends with him poking a finger in Geralt’s direction again, his other hand rested indignantly on his hip. “Without me, and I have to wait the _entire_ day, _no idea_ where you’ve gone off to, whether you’ve run after the next monster or are dead in a ditch somewhere, skewered on cockatrice horns!”

“They don’t have horns.”

“Don’t change the topic!”

Geralt tries to tamper his smirk. “You’re the one who always wants details.”

Jaskier gapes like a fish on dry land. “You absolutely unbelievable brutish arsehole, you unfeeling oaf, how am I ever supposed to compose a new ballad when you won’t let me come with you and never give me any details and—” Abruptly, Jaskier stops. Stares at Geralt’s midriff. “Are you injured?”

Geralt sighs. “It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch doesn’t ruin your shirt.” Jaskier storms over to him, pulling none too gently at his shirt, which comes off of Geralt’s skin with a squelch, heavy with blood.

Geralt sighs. “It’s fine, Jaskier.”

“No, it’s not. Now, sit down!” Jaskier pushes him towards the fire. “Go! Sit! Gods, Geralt, don’t just stand there and _bleed_ all over your shirt, we’re days away from the next bath.”

Geralt shuts Jaskier up the only way he knows. He kisses him. Jaskier harrumphs and slaps his biceps, but Geralt just holds his face and deepens the kiss. And Jaskier—stubborn, exasperating, beautiful Jaskier—finally kisses him back. But instead of calming down or forgetting his rage at Geralt in favor of other emotions, he pulls on Geralt’s hair. And not in the good way.

“Ow. What—”

“Don’t think that gets you off the hook,” Jaskier pants out.

Jaskier pushes him down on his bedroll and frantically pulls off his clothes, fingers skittering over Geralt’s skin, looking for more injuries.

“You gods-damned, brainless witcher, I told you to take me with you!” A button goes flying, but finally Geralt’s shirt is off, revealing a growing bruise on his lower ribs, the skin split in the middle but not bleeding anymore. “Gods, Geralt, look at this, this is what happens when you leave me behind, you horse’s arse.”

“Jaskier, I’m fine.”

“Fine my arse, look at this!” Jaskier’s voice cracks. “It almost tore you in half!”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Just a scratch,” Jaskier mutters and tears off his own shirt, gets them out of their pants, and spits into his hand, wrapping it around Geralt.

Geralt groans and holds on to Jaskier’s suddenly naked ass.

“'Just a scratch,’ he says, when he ruined his new shirt. I swear, Geralt—”

Jaskier spits into his hand again and reaches behind himself, then lifts himself up over Geralt’s cock.

“Jaskier, spit is not enough, let me—”

“Shut up, shut up!” Jaskier’s voice is frantic as he roughly sits on Geralt’s dick, throwing his head back at the stretch as he engulfs Geralt in his tight heat.

Geralt groans and tries to slow Jaskier down, steady him, but Jaskier clearly doesn’t care. He moves with abandon, taking Geralt deeper and deeper. Resistance, as always with Jaskier, is futile. So Geralt puts his hands on Jaskier’s hips and holds on for the ride.

They don’t last long. He’s still riding the high of a successful hunt, and Jaskier is throwing oil on the dying fire. There’s nothing like Jaskier’s hot body around him, the way Jaskier slams himself down on Geralt like he can’t get enough, like he wants everything Geralt has to give. He never stops running his mouth, going from praising Geralt and his cock to cursing him out for holding back. He calls him darling and brute, leans forward so Geralt can kiss the sounds from his mouth, and never breaks their connection.

“Fuck, Geralt.” Jaskier arches his back. “Come on, give it to me. I want it all.” Jaskier looks down at him through heavily lidded eyes, his fingers digging into Geralt’s chest, and Geralt thinks Jaskier might mean more than just Geralt’s body.

It makes something in Geralt ache, deep and undeniable, and he sits up to wind his arms around Jaskier and kiss his throat before he can say something stupid, like that he’ll give Jaskier whatever he wants.

Jaskier’s hands tighten in Geralt’s hair and he moans, part triumph, part plea. “Geralt!”

Geralt’s climax hits him hard and fast, makes him hot and shaky, and he feels Jaskier ride him through it. He barely manages to get a hand between them, but Jaskier doesn’t need much, never does after Geralt’s come, and this time is no different. Geralt forces his eyes open so he doesn’t miss a moment of Jaskier falling apart, eyes closed in pure bliss and his pouty lips bitten red and open and relaxed. Geralt reaches for his face to kiss him, thumb dragging along Jaskier’s bottom lip, and he gets his finger bitten, soft and teasing. Geralt pulls Jaskier in anyway, and for long, heady moments, they just kiss, Jaskier agreeable as he rarely is.

Eventually, Jaskier pushes him down and lies next to him, snuggling up to Geralt like it’s the most natural thing in the world—Geralt guesses by now it is. Still, Jaskier’s strange outburst won’t leave his mind.

“Jaskier.”

“Hmm.”

“What was that?”

Jaskier snorts. “I thought we’d done this often enough that I don’t need to explain it.”

Usually, Geralt isn’t one for complicated conversations. But Jaskier was angry. Distraught. And Geralt can’t let it go.

“You were very angry today.”

Jaskier groans. “Gods save me from ignorant witchers.” Jaskier props himself up on his arm to look down at Geralt. “I was worried, alright? It’s an emotion humans have when someone or something they care about is in danger.”

“You yelled at me.”

Jaskier’s jaw clenches. “Well, I was very worried.” There’s something in his eyes, as if he debates saying more.

Geralt doesn’t know whether he wants to hear it or not. Better not. This, between them, it’s too new, too unstable.

Jaskier seems to come to the same conclusion. “Besides, I need to write a new song, Geralt,” he says, voice airy with over-the-top annoyance, “and you won’t let me make things up because ‘that’s not how it happened.’”

Geralt should be relieved that he just avoided an awkward conversation, so why does he suddenly have this pit in his stomach? He ignores it in favor of pulling Jaskier back against his chest.

Jaskier makes a surprised noise and flails, his entire body tense and unable to settle.

“Would you stop squirming so I can tell you the story?” Geralt bites out.

“Four sentences is not a story,” Jaskier says, and his elbow pokes Geralt into the stomach.

Geralt groans and grips Jaskier tight. “It was early morning. The air was cold and wet with dew and I followed the faint stench of copper and iron—fresh blood. The cockatrice likes to hunt at dawn, so that’s when I went hunting too.”

Jaskier is absolutely still against him.

“Do you want to hear the rest?”

Jaskier exhales and leans back against Geralt, now without any poking or hair pulling, just Jaskier, fitting perfectly into Geralt’s arms.

“I’m all ears.” Jaskier’s voice is a little hoarse. He clears his throat. “Continue.”

And Geralt does. This, surprisingly, turns out to be a good way to spend a morning as well.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're not scared by a ton of Supernatural content, you can come find me on tumblr [here](http://ashtraythief.tumblr.com/) and on twitter [here.](https://twitter.com/ashtraythief) My ask box is always open.


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